The Horsemen vs Eating Disorders
by GranddaugtherOgg
Summary: Again, a collection of shorts. Its theme is exactly what it says on the tin. I got asked on Tumblr: How would the Horsemen react to their chubby human s/o having an eating disorder? Read on to find out.
1. 1: Strife

**Strife** would be probably the first one to notice.

After all, it was you who introduced him into the intriguing art of cooking. Out of the Four, he was the one who took to our foods with most enthusiasm.

That quirky, restless brain of his is always on the lookout for new sensations and human cuisine provides just that.

Strife became a constant fixture in your kitchen, often lending a helping hand (or more often - raising complete havoc. But it's a fun kind of havoc and you love him anyway.)

He's also really perceptive.

He was able to tell that between all that cooking and talking about food and encouraging your wary Nephilim friends to try new and exciting tastes – you hardly eat at all.

Tact is an alien concept for this one, so he approached you about it right away.

„What is it, peach?" he asked one day. „Why aren't you eating?"

You were just putting dirty dishes into the sink; the bluntness of his question made your hands quiver a little. Glass clinked on the metal basin.

You draw a deep breath - and said nothing.

Strife stood still, leaning against the kitchen wall with arms folded on his chest.

You could see him from the corner of your eye, but you didn't dare to turn your head and meet his acute golden gaze.

„The more I think about it, the more it makes my head hurt, you know," he said quietly.

„You showed me all those awesome things. Like pizza - Creator, I love pizza now. Can't believe I could go on for so long without it.

Or chocolate. Chocolate is bliss. There are so many different blisses. Which I would never know if it wasn't for you. I thought you loved food."

„I do". It was barely a whisper.

He came close and held you tighly from the behind, closing you in his embrace, hiding his long, crooked nose in your hair.

„Then why?" he muttered with a muffled voice.

You gave out a determined sigh. You might as well get this over with.

„You're so right. Food is awesome. It's a gift for the senses, pretty much the same way sex is.

(His small, knowing chuckle reverberated through your scalp.) And I love it. I love it like you wouldn't believe.

And cooking for you guys, _nourishing_ you guys...kinda makes me forget that I can't have it."

„What? Why can't you?..." Strife leaned over and looked you in the face. His wore a seriously concerned expression.

Telling him this felt almost heartbreaking.

„Because I'm fat" you said flatly.

He parted his lips, but remained silent. Dumbfounded.

„Food doesn't have this effect on the Nephilim, but it makes people fat. It made me disgusting and ugly and..."

„Babe" he cut you off harshly, his eyes gleaming, „Don't you ever use that word in reference to yourself. Okay? Just don't.

Because I've seen many disgusting things and you're definitely _not_ one of them."

„Look at you! So easy for you to say!" You broke out of his embrace, flushed from sudden anger.

„You never gain weight. You're all legs for days and leanness and muscle while I'm getting fatter and fatter every day.

This obnoxious body of mine softer and flabbier and flabbier still, expanding like a tumour. And I have no control over it! I hate it! I hate myself! I - „

Strife just covered your lips with his. You've heard the term „angry sex" before, but no one told you about angry kissing.

If there was such a thing, that was it.

He attacked your mouth with such vehemence that you went out of breath.

You splayed both hands on his wide chest, trying to push him away; you might've as well try to stop a travelling glacier.

Strife was approximately hundred times stronger than you, but he would never use it to his advantage before.

He was never like that before.

It was a deep, immersing kiss. And Strife was a tremendous kisser.

You could keep fighting or you could let go and submerge in the pleasure that flooded your veins.

You closed your eyes and chose the latter.

Million years later you finally parted, you flushed, both panting a little. Your face burned. So did your nether regions.

„Strife..."

„I love you." he said, cupping your face in his hands.

His thick black eyebrows were knitted, that yellow stare that you learned to love so much glistening with worry.

„I love you. And you're beautiful. You're fucking perfect just the way you are, do you hear me?"

„I'm sorry, Strife" you said with a stifled voice. „But it's just not enough."

He held the back of your head and pulled you in so that your foreheads touched.

„Than I'll have to try harder."


	2. 2: Fury

**Fury** is an extremely no-nonsence person.

She seemed brusque and callous to you at first; you had yet to learn that there is in fact a huge heart beating under that shapely metal breast-plate.

Of course she found out that you're vomiting after meals. Of course she got to handling this situation immediately.

Like, on the spot. In fact, she kicked the bathroom door open and sashayed right in, scaring the living shit out of you.

„What was it that you were just doing?" she asked in a clipped voice.

„Eh?"

„I'm seriously interested in the answer, Y/N."

„I woh woohin mae teef?" you ventured, you mouth still full of foam, telltale toothbrush in your hand.

„I beg your pardon?"

You spat into the washing sink, gargled with gusto and put the brush away. All this while carefully avoiding Fury's gaze.

„I was washing my teeth" you said with a shrug.

„I meant before that."

You stole a glare. She looked serious enough, hands on those shapely hips, chin pronounced, ready to take on any challenge.

„I was, eh, vomiting" you said in a dead voice.

„Why? Is your digesting organ out of commission?"

Fury never had a stomach flu in her life. She doesn't even know the proper name for it.

To be honest, you were not entirely sure if the nephilim even have stomachs like you do.

They don't need to eat after all, it's entirely voluntary pasttime for them. Maybe food just magically disintegrates somewhere under all those abs?

„Well, yes, but actually no". It was a cowardly answer and Fury saw right through it.

„If so, then you should see a designated stomach specialist. It happens way too often."

„Excuse me?..."

„You vomiting after a meal. It happens way too often." Fury put one feet on the loo pedestal.

One hand still on her hip and the other pointing at you. She looked like Napoleon assessing battle.

„Well, sorry for that." you said rather wryly.

Fury's face suddenly changed. The accusatory expression morphed into something else. She looked...upset.

„Don't be sorry, for Creator's sake!" she snapped, getting closer and surveying you with those expressive milky white eyes.

„You're seriously worrying me, you know."

„Sorry..." you mumbled again, watching your feet.

She put her hands on your shoulders and pulled you in for a crisp hug.

„How can I help you with this?"

„You can't." You swallowed hard, your throat still raw and burning.

„You just can't, Fury. No one can."

She unfurled her arms, letting you free, and shot you a hard glare.

„I've slayed abominations of all shapes and sizes. Don't tell me that I cannot do something."

„But it's the truth" you whispered. „There's...an illness. I have it. Like, in my head."

„You mean it's not your stomach?"

„No." You sighed. „I mean, it gets affected by it the most, sure, all of my body does, but the source is actually in the brain.

It keeps telling me things...it keeps making me do things that I don't really want to do."

„Like disgorging a perfectly good dinner?" Her painted eyebrows formed a frown.

„Yeah."

„What does it tell you?"

You went silent for a long while.

„That I am fat and unworthy of food."

„So it's a wretched liar", she stated coldly.

You let out a beleaguered sigh.

„The thing is, I don't even know anymore. It keeps nagging me no matter I do. If I eat, I'm a disgusting glutton.

If I don't, I'm still a pig, a roll of lard that shouldn't eat like, ever again. Damned if I do, damned if I don't" - you gave out a small, sad chuckle.

Fury knelt on one knee; you were now nearly the same height. Her face almost brushed yours.

„Do you know how much I love you, Y/N?"

„Yeah, I sort of have an idea." That was another sad chuckle.

„Do you know how vain I am?"

That question actually caught you off guard. Was she pulling your leg? Judging from her strained expression, she wasn't.

„Yeah, you can be pretty vain. But you seem to have it under control most of the time."

Those pearly peepers narrowed.

„Do you imagine me, in all my vanity, cavorting with someone who could be described as a quote unquote, a roll of lard?"

Your breath hitched.

„Can you even picture me, loving someone who is disgusting? Or a glutton? I've met Gluttony incarnate, Y/N.

I slayed them. And they looked nothing like you."

„Fury..."

„Your body...", she traced the sides of your torso with her long fingers. It was but a feathery light touch, but you trembled.

„It's a thing of pure beauty. It entrances me. It entices me. You're exactly the way you were supposed to be. Never doubt that."

„I'm trying to..." that was a sudden wetness in your voice, broken note which you hated. „I'm really trying, Fury! But that voice just never shuts up."

She pulled you in again and held you tight.

„Every time you hear this voice, tell it to abscond immediately.

Or else I will get old Vulgrim and kick his ugly backside until he finds me a portal that leads to your head.

And then I will go in there and slaughter this voice with extreme prejudice."

You gave out a weird sound – not entirely a sob, not exactly a laugh.

Your stomach was empty and painful, your digestive track still hurting from all that you put it through.

But in your heart you felt warm.


End file.
